I've got these scars, but are you aware? You're not helping by keeping me here. This sacred testament has crept up my garments until I'm naked and you just make a fool out of everything we held. A blossom became a shadow but for your sake the martyr is a relic of hell. Spineless but on one accord and pedals floored won't stop this rowdy beast. But your spine has a tendency to urge me on, only when broken is the loneliness gone. This time it is prophetic. Want a break from the monotonous roads that sleep alone? You are a fire forged to light my way home to the rusted belt and the pain I felt was a systemic cell for a sorority of tell and all the nails are a clone. Once the hammer hit you were gone. You glowed. You had to move but you were a stone. So without legs and without warning you busted your mind into a jet plane. Crashed and burned into the most simplistic restraint. Their hands failed. Now we are all but a circle.
And the urgency and anxiety long to complete me. It is just a crack, oh a small flaw. But you aren't incomplete from a lack of wanting but from an uneasy siding of panels that never stand strong. You have been a burning piece of parchment for far too long so you instinctively make me the ashes, but fate is greater than your symptoms of wishes and I would rather speak than have a throat full of malaise that is sore from the fork in the road eating from a sour plate we never finished. We ate the badges and rank was damaged. For holocaust unseen in between your lavish lifestyle unmanaged. I shall cripple us until the day is anew.
A train with no tracks. All the blind will not be in darkness. Now what means have you bestowed when you're undertow? I felt famished, but most of all I was thrown into a pit of sand. Can't tolerate a schedule of lies as my itenerary. I bled black and I'll never turn back. But see me when the fall is more than water.....A crest in transmission, blurring the lines between morbid days and cannon fodder.
-Thomas T. (11-9-18)
